


World Behind and Home Ahead

by steelneena



Series: CR 2 Oneshots and Short Series [16]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon compliant almost, Gen, I do like Essek, I promise!, M/M, Molly is a cat, Molly with the Nein for their Xhorhassian adventures, lots and lots of soft with a side dish of angst, mild helpings of unfounded jealousy, sofffft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25365064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena/pseuds/steelneena
Summary: Molly made his way home to the Nein, but now, he has to find his way back to himself. Only, far too often, he's left behind. What can he do? After all, he's only a very little cat. And not a fey one at that.
Relationships: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Mollymauk Tealeaf
Series: CR 2 Oneshots and Short Series [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1280990
Comments: 20
Kudos: 177
Collections: #MollycatMondays, Find Familiars





	World Behind and Home Ahead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meridas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridas/gifts), [Senor_Sparklefingers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senor_Sparklefingers/gifts).



> I wrote a sequel! This probably won't make sense if you don't read the first one. Unbetad. We die like men.

At first, Mollymauk doesn’t mind Essek. He’s helpful to the Nein, and gives decent scritches while they’re not looking, which is funny, until they tell him that their new cat is actually their once deceased tiefling companion. The pets stop after that. Probably something to do with dignity, not that Molly’s ever really cared about that. Even after they discovered just exactly who Felix the Cat really was, it hadn’t stopped his friends from stroking his ears, giving him back massages, belly massages and ‘peet’ massages, as Jester was prone to calling his dainty paws. And although, Caleb hadn’t once buried his face in Molly’s fur since the revelation, he often spends hours scratching and rubbing at Molly’s cheeks and chin with one hand, and a book in the other. Definitely something Molly could get used to.

But even over the first couple of days that he’s present in the Xhorhaus with his friends, he starts to get jealous of how easily Essek and Caleb seem to click. It doesn’t help that he’s useless to the Nein stuck in cat form, and that only Caduceus can really talk with him regularly. But Essek is powerful and useful and more than once in the first week of residence, he’s been of particular aid.

One thing is for sure – if nothing else, being a cat has only enhanced Molly’s jealous streak. Not that it was _too_ terribly wide before, but he always spends extra time rubbing up against Caleb’s hand after Essek’s been to visit.

Funnily enough, only Nott seems to notice, but she never says anything to him about it.

And then, nearly two weeks later, after a failed sting operation for which Molly was definitively left behind by the group as a whole, much to his displeasure, the Nein _leave_ leave.

Without him. To someplace called Bazzoxan.

Which he hates. But Jester calls him every night to let him know that they’re all okay, and attempts to regale him with stories of their venture, though they inevitably end up cut off in the middle of a sentence. But he doesn’t mind too, much. It’s better than being totally alone, and it means that they haven’t forgotten him, even if they are leaving him behind.

Rationally, he gets it. He’s a cat, for Moonweaver’s sake! One good kick would put him out for good, and he’s not sure what might become of him if that happened.

Irrationally, he despises it with all he’s got and occasionally, when thinking about it, can’t help but hiss.

And then, about six days into their travel, Molly doesn’t receive a message.

He stays up all night with worry, pacing like crazy on the uppermost ledge of the manor my the tree. The first thing he sees is a dark shadow, darting quickly up the wall and onto an overhang, disappearing into the gloom.

It’s the first time since he arrived that he doesn’t feel totally useless, darting down to the eaves of the roof and padding silently over to look at just who is hiding there.

The figure is oddly misted, almost like the way the magic Essek uses to float looks to Molly’s cat eyes – and seeing through magical veils wasn’t something he’d expected was within the capabilities of an average cat, and yet…

It’s an elf person, with a shaven head and sharp features, wearing dark clothing and a dour expression.

Loudly, Molly meows. He’s rewarded almost instantly but the flinching of the dark figure, who sighs when she realizes its just a cat.

Or at least, that’s what she thinks.

“Hush.” Is all they say, before melting back amongst the shadows. He thinks to meow again, but suddenly, there are voices on the street. Familiar voices.

Molly’s heart sings and he meows again, louder than before in hopes of attracting their attention. In the dark of Rosohna, his vision is nearly perfect and as they round the bend he takes in each of their faces happily. Yasha is last, because he doesn’t see her right away and sits primly, waiting and meowing, despite the grumbles of the shadow behind him, who has – by some miracle – not yet kicked him. Any moment now, he’ll see her.

Except, Yasha never comes.

The rest file into the house, with Beau glancing up at him once with an acute expression of sadness that sends chills through his spine. Ignoring the figure, now that his friends are all safely inside and unable to be drop assassinated or some such nonsense as he’d been imaging, Molly darts back across the roof to the ledge and then down, fast as his legs can carry him. He only stops at Caduceus’ feet and begin patting at his calf, their symbol for wanting to speak. Instantly, he complies.

“What can I do for you, Molly?”

_“There’s someone lurking up on the roof. An elf. Shaved head. Dark skin. Chiseled features. Now, where’s Yasha? Where’s my charm? Why didn’t Jester message me!? What’s happened?”_

“Someone’s lurking on the roof.” Caduceus relays the information, sending Beau instantly in a dash up the stairs, before turning back to Molly. “I’m sorry, Mister Molly, Yasha, well, she’s gone. We fought some…demon thing. He did something to her and she turned on us. Then we got separated. There was nothing we could do to reach her.”

Before him Jester falls to her knees, tears in her eyes, and pulls him into her embrace, before sobbing into his fur. Though muffled, he gets the gist of her words. Explanation, apology, and general distress. He wants to comfort her, but he’s too keyed up and wriggles from her grasp back to the floor, weaving around them in the hopes that if he looks hard enough, she might be there anyways, just quietly standing somewhere in a corner waiting for him to come greet her.

But she’s not there.

Instinctually, Molly yowls.

For the first time in his short cat life, Molly wishes he could cry. She’s Yasha’d off before, but he can _smell_ the worry and the fear wafting in waves off of the Nein and it’s driving him insane.

Eventually, someone picks him up – it’s Caleb, he dimly realizes, but even that’s not the comfort it would usually be – and croons to him softly in a language he can’t understand - Zemnian. It’s Zemnian – while stroking him firmly and rhythmically.

When he starts to purr, it’s not because he’s happy – he’s learned that’s a misnomer, since becoming a cat. He does purr when happy and content, that’s true. But he also purrs when he’s distressed _because_ it’s a self-comforting response. His tail is still twitching dangerously, even though he can feel the vibrations of Caleb’s words against him where he has his head tucked under Caleb’s chin. It’s wonderful and terrible all at once and he yowls again in spite of himself.

This time, when they leave for Nicodranas, they take him with them. Though they spend barely a day there, before returning to Rosohna, Molly finds himself tucked into Caleb’s coat when Essek transports them to the Flotket Alps. There are a few near misses, but Caleb’s used to having a cat scrambling around on him, even in the middle of a battle, and other than being ungodly cold and still numb from the loss of Yasha – but it’ll be temporary. It _has_ to be – he’s fine. They meet Reani, and for a while things seem to be looking up. For one, Reani can talk to him. Even though she’s utterly perplexed at his condition, she treats him much like Jester does: doting relentlessly, making him tiny flower crowns with catnip, attempting to remind herself not to baby talk him, and constantly forgetting. It’s nice, for a while. For a while, he forgets. And then, they learn about the dragon. The implication, when they say they’re leaving, is obvious. Too much he’s been left out of their ‘they’. Too little he’s felt like a member of the Mighty Nein.

Despite his best effort, Molly doesn’t win the fight to go with them, and Beau gets a rather nasty set of claw marks across her forearm for her trouble.

For two days, Molly mills about Reani’s house, worrying his head off, before they return, tired but no real worse for the wear. He claws his way up Caleb’s clothes a little less carefully than usual and hangs himself about Caleb’s shoulders, refusing to speak to Caduceus when the others ask him to.

There’s been talk, between Caleb and Nott, about the possibility of returning her to her body. More and more, Molly’s gotten curious about the prospect, about whether the same thing could be done for him. Most of the rest of their time in Uthodurn, that’s what he spends his time thinking about. About how, if he’d been himself, he could have been there with them, could have saved Yasha. About how he would have been there beside them, fighting off a white dragon, and how he could have spent time with Fjord, answering questions about the Moonweaver, helping him pick a path.

About how he could say things to Caleb that he didn’t want a third party translating for him.

For all the petting, and the holding, and the sleeping in Caleb’s bed all night, because now he hasn’t got Yasha – _don’t think about it_ – Molly decides that none of it is worth feeling useless any longer than he already does.

In the midst of these thoughts, in the middle of the night, Molly suddenly realizes that he understands Nott/Veth much better than he ever did when he was a tiefling.

Of course, such magic, so it seems, requires Essek’s help, and Molly is _loath,_ to owe the Shadowhand any favours of his own, as the Nein as a whole seem to keep racking them up. The one good thing that comes of it, ironically, if their return to the Empire, via Nicodranas. It’s strange, retracing their steps of so long ago, especially without Yasha at certain junctures, but there’s something comforting about knowing that he’s there with them for this return journey, in whatever form.

He’s made something of a habit of it, every night when he curls up beside Caleb.

_I’m grateful to be here and alive with my friends._

_I will find Yasha._

_I will be myself again._

Small comfort, but good motivation all the same.

When they’re back in Rosohna again, and on the path of Obann, Yasha’s enslaver, he tries to make a fuss about being left behind again – she could be there! – but his heart isn’t in it, and he watches Essek take them away, so many unhappy and stinging feelings in his heart as he does.

Worry, mostly.

And jealousy, still. That’s certainly not improved. But it will, he vows, if only Essek helps them get Yasha back. He’ll foreswear his stupid possessive tendencies and be nice. But he doesn’t and they don’t and Yasha slips away again, and Molly decides a little vindictively to forget that promise. After all, he only has himself to hold to such things.

They end up back in Nicodranas after that, and Molly finds that he is far from the only one of their number put out by the failure. Everyone seems dejected, so he lets Beau get ahold of him for a while. She pets him less attentively than the others, usually, but this time, her strokes as long and purposeful. Even Fjord gives him a few pats on the head and actually apologizes.

After Beau has fallen asleep, and Molly’s slipped out from under her grasp, he’s making his way back to Caleb’s room when he spies the glow of Nott’s bright lantern eyes.

“Hey, Molly. I want you to know, Caleb’s working on it. He’ll get us back to normal. I believe in him. I know he can do it. Soon, I think. He tells me, soon. Maybe.” Nott/Veth always pets him from the tip of his nose to the tip of his tail. It’s a little weird sometimes, but he doesn’t mind it on the whole. “Then we’ll get back what we’ve lost. My family. Your Yasha. Things will be better when we’re back right, won’t it?” It’s the first time Molly notices just how nervous she is about the prospect. By way of response, he only nuzzles her hand before they part ways.

Once more in Nicodranas, Molly is left behind. He sits on his haunches, looking up at the poised woman, who looks back down at him curiously.

“Well, I don’t believe I’d ever had the courtesy of meeting a cat who is really a person that isn’t just under a temporary spell. I apologize, but I do not presently have the means of understanding you.”

Sitting up just as straight as he can – she seems like the type that makes and impression, and if he’s going to be alone with her for gods only know how long, he wants this to go over well. For all the Nein know, she might not be a cat person. Though it only comes across as a meow, he speaks to her regardless, saying: _“Most don’t. No worries,”_ and blinking to reinforce the idea.

Allura sighs heavily. “Well, I don’t know how long they might be, and I can’t stay here.”

Before leaving, the rest of the Nein had charged her – not implored, nor begged, but _charged_ her – with his safekeeping. Molly’d been mildly flattered when he wasn’t too busy being ticked at getting left behind again.

‘Soon’ couldn’t come soon enough.

Tal’Dorei isn’t all too different from Wildemount, Molly discovers when Allura takes him home with her. Though he mostly stays in her home, he does occasionally wander the streets when she’s busy. It’s a little strange, staying with her, because it turns out she has a lovely, if temperamental, dwarvish wife, and he feels a bit like a voyeur and not in a sexy way either, because sometimes Kima forgets that he’s not just a cat.

When the first week goes by, he thinks it will be over soon and he’ll get to go home.

But it isn’t. And still isn’t. Eventually, in the middle of the night, Molly’s ears perk up when he hears Allura talking to someone who most definitely isn’t Kima. She gets grumpy when she’s woken unnecessarily, Molly discovered quickly.

So, it’s the Nein, and he can hear some but not enough.

She fills him in in the morning. It’s not fair, at all, that he’s had to do so much waiting around, and now, they’ve hardly passed a few days in the Heirloom-Happy-Fun-Sphere or whatever, and he’s been waiting half a month!

They do call again, and things seem a little more desperate, which doesn’t help him any. Much to Molly’s mortification, Kima brings home a mouse and tells him to chase it.

“I’ve had enough of your crazy pacing. Get your energy out with this.”

She sets it loose and instantly instinct takes over.

Every day after that, until Allura is summoned back to Nicodranas, Kima brings him a mouse. Begrudgingly, he chases every single one.

When they reunite, Molly spends a lot of time rubbing up on their legs – even Fjord, who allows it after such a long period of abandonment. When Caduceus relayed that particular phrase to the group, they’d all looked properly chastened.

And then, they set up a ritual, and finally, the path to Yasha is revealed. The first near miss hurts just as badly as the last, except this time, Molly is there to see the fallout. He knows more than anything that she’ll be distressed, once she’s returned to herself. She’ll need him to be him, and soon seems farther and farther away than ever before. The one bright spot in amongst all the failure is that Cree isn’t at the Evening Nip to see and ask about him.

Things move quickly after that.

“Yeah,” Jester is saying. “We should bamf there, and then I’ll Scry.”

Caleb nods, and Molly wholeheartedly agrees. Yasha is _there_ and she needs them. She needs _him_.

“Pass the time,” Caleb is saying. “On the way to the Soul, and then we could get there, and you can Scry. Oh…god.”

Instantly, Molly’s ears perk at the hint of distress.

“What?” Jester asks, voicing aloud his own concern.

“Can’t Scry from the Soul?” Nott/Veth wonders aloud.

“No,” Caleb shakes his head and suddenly, one of his hands lands on Molly’s head, scratching gently. “Just…nervous. About going home.”

The others keep talking, but Molly doesn’t pay attention to any of it. It’s the first time that Caleb’s given voice to any of his past in Molly’s hearing, but the others appear to know what’s going on well enough and don’t question it further. He wonders if they all know. If Caleb opened his heart wide from them in Molly’s absence.

If he’ll ever be accorded the same honour.

But he doesn’t have the time to think about it, because one conversation with Pumat later and they’re leaving for Rexxentrum and Yasha. Somehow, in the mad rush, they don’t think to leave him behind.

During the battle against Obann and the Laughing Hand, he’s completely useless, spending most of his time darting out of the way, hiding in corners and trying not to get hit with spells, all while watching frantically for Yasha. When she does finally appear, it breaks his heart. It’s evident that whatever it is that’s happened to her, she’s unable to overthrow it. He wants nothing more than to grab her up and sweep her away and hold her in his arms until she remembers who she is and holds him back.

But that isn’t possible.

When she stabs Beau through in a way far, far too reminiscent of his own death, Molly finally fears that it might _never_ be possible.

Then, lightning strikes, the stained glass windows shatter, and the single primal scream Yasha unleashes simultaneously rends and heals Molly’s heart. She’s back. But they still have a fight to finish, and he can’t afford to distract her.

"I don't know how I can make any of you trust me again because I don't even trust myself,” she tells the room, when Obann’s been run farther underground. Aching with empathy for her, Molly keeps himself hidden away. He’ll be able to show her how much he loves and trusts her later. He will. The difference between knowing that, and desiring the opposite is made no less overwhelming.

It’s terrible and disgusting, the battle that ensues and more than once, Molly almost throws himself into the fray with no regard for his own safety or current capabilities. When the weird ghost lady who’d messed up Caduceus the last time moves in to strike the thing that Obann has become, a sense of complete relief rushes through him and he bounds out from behind his cover and climbs right up Yasha, who takes him in her arms without a word and holds him tightly the entire time. Blood and bile and other disgusting matter coats his fur, mingling with dust, but he doesn’t care. She’s back and she’s his charm again and he _trusts_ her. If nothing else makes her believe it, he will.

Things are quietly strange after that; they amble about the battlefield, check on Pumat, and explain things to Yasha as they are quickly ushered to _the King_ and his advisors, of all people. Maybe it’s because the battle was so harrowing. Maybe it’s because the waiting and the hoping and the worrying is finally over. If anyone finds it strange that there’s a bloodied cat in Yasha’s arms, no one says anything.

One benefit to his present state, is that people tend to ignore him, unless they’re particularly fond of cats. When he’s being ignored, he has the acute opportunity of learning a lot. Allura is there, and she gives him one tight smile, and he recognizes Oremid Hass, who liked Frumpkin so well in Zadash. There are two others, one more charming than the other, introduced as Trent Ikithon.

Trent Ikithon, whose gaze latches onto Caleb possessively. Without meaning to, Molly’s hackles raise and he hisses in the middle of the conversation. Even though the conversation is tense and Beau’s words could mean life or death for them, Molly’s instincts keep him on Ikithon like he’d done with the mice in Allura’s home in Tal’Dorei.

And when he approaches them at the end of the audience, addressing Caleb as _Bren_ , it is all Molly can do to keep himself from swiping across the man’s face with his claws very, _very_ much extended. Hissing furiously instead, he finally earns himself a look from Ikithon, who dismisses him instantly and sweeps out of the room.

That evening, Caleb takes him aside in one of their new rooms at the inn, and tells Molly the story of his childhood.

“I understand, Mister Mollymauk, if you will change your mind about me. Rest assured.”

But Molly will do no such thing, and only butts hid head under Caleb’s chin, rubbing there consolingly. As far as hugs go, it’s paltry, but more than he feels he’d have been allowed were he a person again. Conflicting as always, Molly feels the pull of his natural form contested with the inroads he makes with Caleb as a cat.

It’s tempting, but forever limiting. For now, though, there’s no other choice, so he purrs and gives Caleb’s cheek a little lick – a liberty he’s not taken since that first day, before his identity was revealed to them – to reassure Caleb that he’s not going anywhere. If anything, Molly knows he’ll only be more protective now.

But there’s Yasha to consider, and when Caleb takes a moment to stop petting him, Molly hops down and heads to find her.

He doesn’t leave her side the rest of their time in the Empire’s capital, save for when she fights. She needs him, more than anyone else does right now.

They arrive a few days later in typically irreverent Nein style: bathrobes, the lot of them. At first, Molly doesn’t notice anything off, but when Fjord moves and he finally gets a good view on Caleb, he realizes that the wizard is only using magic to give the _appearance_ of wearing a robe.

Naked as the day he was born, Caleb walks shamelessly through the streets of Rosohna and Molly…Molly indulges, just a little, and stares. But just for half the walk back to the manor. Hopping down off Yasha’s shoulder, he bats a bit at Caduceus’ feet to get the gentle giant’s attention.

“What can I do for you, friend?”

_“Would you be a dear and tell Caleb that as much as I appreciate the view, it’s only fair he know I’ve got a view, not that there’s anything he can really do to mitigate that? Oh, and if you need to clarify, tell him I rather like the conglomeration of freckles that resemble a shooting star. It’s very becoming.”_

To his credit, Caduceus, though visibly confused, relays the message. Instantly, Caleb takes on a full body blush.

“What does that mean, Molly?” Jester asks, but he only climbs back onto Yasha’s shoulders and closes his eyes.

If one flickers open once or twice, well, Caleb’s made no move to hide himself by standing elsewhere, so Molly doesn’t feel too particularly bad about it at all.

Caleb says nothing to him about it all the rest of that day. Later, when Essek arrives for dinner, Molly spends and awful lot of time focusing on recalling the beautiful movement of the muscles in Caleb’s shoulders to distract him. Eventually though, jealousy gets the best of him and he abandons Yasha to sit in Caleb’s lap where he can glare purposefully at the Shadowhand and have it mean something, considering that more often than not, Essek’s gaze is directed towards Caleb.

It’s pathetic really, considering that there might not be any…intention for Essek’s part, but Molly refuses to loose Caleb to someone else while he’s stuck as a cat and unable to make the sort of overtures that might be welcomed now that so much as changed for Caleb since the last time Molly regularly stood on two legs.

That would be torturous. That would be true heartbreak.

Only the discussion of the research Caleb had done and the magic which might restore both he and Veth to their natural states bolsters his mood.

One more day.

One more day, and Molly won’t be limited in the affection he can dole out to his friends. One more day and he’ll be able to tell Yasha that he loves her. One more day and he’ll be able to hug Beauregard properly. One more day before he and Fjord can finally spend more than a few minutes in a room together without instant sneezing and gratuitous apologies. One more day before Molly can apologize to Veth for misunderstanding her. One more day before he can sweep Jester into his arms and dance her properly around the room. One more day before he can meet Caduceus for real. One more day before he can tell Mister Caleb just exactly how he feels.

One more day, and breakfast at Essek’s. What’s one day to so many months?

That night, Molly sleeps well the whole time through.

Much to Molly’s surprise, Essek is exactly the Nein’s brand of weird. _I’ll be grateful to him for this, if it works, and I won’t be mean, because under normal circumstances, he fits right in and everyone else likes him. Including Caleb._ _Hell, under normal circumstances, Caleb aside…_ Were it not for the jealous tendencies that flared, Molly has to concede that Essek isn’t half bad looking. Were it not for Caleb, Molly knows that he might have very different angles on the Shadowhand.

Over the course of their awkward breakfast where they keep reminding Essek that he doesn’t have to float to look cool, they also discuss who will go first. Nott/Veth is still nervous, but seems firmly rooted in the desire to be herself again finally. Molly is torn. He wants to be himself, but Nott has waited far longer than he.

In the end, her nerves win out, and despite Molly’s insistence through Caduceus, it is decided that Molly will go first.

Caleb lays him in the clay gentle, almost tenderly, before gathering the gem dust and sprinkling it over him. It’s strange, purposefully laying in something that will get him dirty, and he spares a thought for how long it’s going to take him to thoroughly clean his fur before he remembers, and suddenly, the spell starts. He can feel it in the air; the wind picks up, the temperature alters. Everything is static and ozone, the incense almost fading away under the overwhelming scent of magic. There’s a brief, pregnant calm and the clay moves around him, encasing him.

Instantly, he panics.

It’s cloying and hot and thick and in his eyes and his mouth and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, oh _gods-_

But then there’s a little hint of a push that feels like Caleb, reminding him that he has to remember himself, or it won’t work. It’s a struggle, ignoring the memories, ignoring the reality and it’s almost painful but he remembers himself exactly as he was, exactly the way he wants to be again. Everything is bright, even from where’s he’s curled within the clay.

He doesn’t know how long it goes on, can’t tell.

Then, suddenly, magic and clay shatter around him, and everything around him is glowing orange. Molly blinks his eyes as he feels himself drift downwards – and when was he floating? He doesn’t know. Caleb and Essek are standing over him looking down, and Caleb’s eyes shine bright.

But there’s only one way to know for sure.

“Hullo there, Mister Caleb,” Molly says.

And for the first time in months, he doesn’t come out a meow.

“Oh thank goodness!” Caleb exclaims, and pulls Molly into a hug.

It’s bliss, pure bliss, and weakly, Molly hugs him back. “Thank you, Caleb. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Several things happen after that. For one, Caleb shucks his coat and covers Molly with it. Then he and Essek together help Molly down the stairs. There’s hugging and good natured ribbing and introductions, and food – _people food –_ before Caleb and Essek take Nott up with them to run the ritual over again. Between Fjord and Jester, Molly’s comfortably situated into Yasha’s lap, and Caduceus checks him over to make sure that all’s well.

Bliss.

Which makes it all the worse when the same spell which worked so perfectly on him, does not do the same for Nott.

Cursed.

With what little strength he has – and Caduceus promises he’ll get it back within a day – Molly takes Nott into his arms.

“We’ll fix this. I’m back now, and I mean to make it up to you. You’ll be you again. I promise.” He bites his lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand.”

She pats his cheek. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re back.”

They teleport to Zadash hours later, after appropriately clothing and outfitting Molly with some weapons and supplies. Instead of rooming with Fjord, like before, he begs off to spend the night with Yasha, whom he finally holds in his arms instead of the other way around.

When she’s sleepy and content, halfways to slumber from his hands in her hair, and his promises to be careful and reminders of how much he loves her, she rolls over. Peeking one eye open, she smiles a little, peaceful smile.

“It’s okay if you leave in the night. I know you’ll be here in the morning.” And with that, she nestles her head into his chest and falls asleep.

She’d known, always, apparently, his nocturnal habits. For some time, he simply lays there, drowsing to the even breaths of his best friend before gathering the courage to slip away from her, padding across the way to Caleb’s room.

For a moment, he stands, stock still, ready to turn back. He’s not a cat anymore. Things, by necessity, will be different.

But he doesn’t want anything to change.

There’s a dim light from underneath the doorway, so Molly carefully swings it open and steps inside. Engrossed as he is, Caleb doesn’t notice a thing until he’s standing right before him. Blinking almost in disbelief, Caleb looks up at him askance.

“It’s three,” Molly says, without an ounce of hesitation. The instinct hasn’t worn off. Might never. “Scoot over.”

Maybe it’s because he’s bewildered, maybe it’s because of the way Molly says it, but Caleb does as he’s told and Molly wastes no time in getting in under the covers beside him. “Time for bed, Mister Caleb.” Caleb licks his lips – Molly commits it to memory. He can feel the warmth of Caleb’s breath, coming a bit faster now. Impulse takes him. And desire. Scooting just a hare closer, Molly presses a kiss to Caleb’s cheek, softly. As soft as the next words he speaks. “Tell me to leave, and I will.”

Tentatively, Caleb’s hand reaches over him, pulling up the blanket over Molly’s shoulder. “Goodnight Mister Mollymauk.”

It’s so wonderful, the gleam in Caleb’s eyes, that Molly feels the emotion in his throat. “Goodnight, dear heart.”

One by one, Caleb’s globes of light dissipate, and under cover of darkness, one slender hand finds Molly’s own and squeezes. 


End file.
